Christmas Treasures (9781101558720) Read online

  She watched Tucker and Sam exchange worried looks, but the two men didn’t say a thing. That seemed the worst moment of all. She knew Ben was hanging on just by a thread.

  Then the EMS crew rushed into the church. They took over the CPR and administered drugs to thin Ben’s blood and stop the heart attack right away. Nitroglycerin, Carolyn heard them say. Then they bundled him up on a stretcher and took him away.

  Carolyn wanted to ride in the ambulance, but Tucker drove her instead. “The paramedics need to work on Ben some more,” Tucker had told her. “You might be in their way.”

  She wouldn’t like to see it was what he really meant. It would only alarm her further.

  Tucker’s police cruiser kept them moving at top speed on the highway. Sam Morgan came, too, helping her stay hopeful with his calm, steady outlook.

  By the time they found Ben in the ER, he was already getting tests and more treatment. A heart specialist, Dr. Chandler, soon told her what they all suspected: Ben had suffered a sudden, severe heart attack and needed immediate intervention. Nothing less would save him.

  Of course, she told them to do whatever was necessary to save him.

  Rachel had arrived just in time. “Mom, is Dad going to be all right?”

  Carolyn didn’t know how to answer. Then she fell back on her motherly instincts, honed after all these years. “He’s going to be okay, honey. He needs an operation, but they say he’s going to make it,” she promised.

  Though she wasn’t sure at all.

  After speaking with Dr. Chandler, Carolyn had signed some papers. Then she and Rachel were allowed to see Ben, just for a few minutes before he was prepared for the operation. He looked so weak and vulnerable. He was wearing a hospital gown with a thin blanket pulled to his chest, a plastic bracelet on his wrist, and lines for an IV in his arm. A big white bandage covered one cheek, where the emergency room doctor had closed his cut. They’d had to shave off his beard to take care of the wound, Carolyn noticed. She wasn’t sure if Ben was aware of that and didn’t have the heart to mention it. They had more important things to worry about right now, didn’t they? A nurse had removed his eyeglasses, and now he squinted up at her, somehow managing to smile.

  “Carolyn,” he whispered. “The doctor says they’re going to operate on my heart . . .”

  “I know, Ben. We just talked to Dr. Chandler about it. It’s going to be okay, dear.”

  He’d already been given a lot of drugs for the pain and tests, and he could hardly speak. But he fiercely gripped her hand and managed to kiss her back when she leaned over and kissed him.

  She stroked the side of his head “You’re going to be fine, Ben. We’re all praying hard for you. I love you so much,” she told him.

  “I love you, too,” he said.

  It was so important to put positive thoughts in the mind of a person facing surgery. She had read that someplace and was glad she remembered.

  “The doctors say you’re doing very well, considering what you’ve been through, and this operation will repair your heart completely. You’ll be better than new,” she promised.

  He wanted to speak, she could tell he did, but he could only nod. Then his blue eyes went all soft and watery at the sight of Rachel, who stood at the other side of the gurney.

  “Hello, my girl,” he managed.

  “Hello, Daddy.” Rachel leaned over her father and kissed his cheek, then whispered something in his ear that made him smile.

  Later, Carolyn asked what she’d said, if it wasn’t too private.

  “I just told him that after all these years, we’re finally getting to see what his face looks like. And I hope he doesn’t scare his grandchildren.”

  “Oh, Rachel—you didn’t really say that, did you?” Carolyn had to laugh at the teasing. She was sure Ben had taken the joke in good spirits and would be telling everyone who visited while he recovered.

  Yes, that was the way she had to think about this. He would survive this assault on his body, the cutting open and sewing up. He would be even better for it, she told herself. He would be sitting up in bed, talking and laughing, in no time at all.

  She had to look ahead and picture that and beg God to come to the aid of her husband, who had always been such a good and faithful man.

  Such a good and faithful servant.

  THEY WAITED AND WAITED. CAROLYN HAD A PILE OF MAGAZINES IN HER lap but couldn’t read a word. A large, flat-screen TV hung suspended from the wall a short distance away. She watched newscasters talking, but had no idea what they were talking about.

  “Are you all right, Mom? Can I get you anything?” Rachel’s soft voice jarred Carolyn from her wandering thoughts.

  “I’m fine, dear. I think I’ll make myself a cup of tea.” Carolyn wasn’t hungry, and she didn’t want to leave the waiting area while Ben was still in surgery. “Isn’t the nurse supposed to come in and tell us what’s going on?” she asked.

  Rachel glanced at her watch. “Not for at least another hour.”

  Carolyn checked the time, too. It felt as if an hour had already passed since the last report, but it had only been twenty minutes. “Yes, I guess you’re right. Has your brother called?”

  “He sent a text. He just got on a flight and should be at Logan in four hours. Dad should be out of surgery by then.”

  “Yes, he should be. God willing,” Carolyn added quietly. “I think this must be hard on your brother, too, being so far away.”

  Rachel nodded. “I could tell Mark was upset, though he was trying to act very manly about it. He told me to tell Dad that he loved him and he was on his way. At least Dad was awake and able to hear that.”

  “Yes, I’m glad for that, at least.” Carolyn knew the brief message from his son would mean the world to Ben.

  Mark had left home when he was about eighteen, first for Brown University and a major in philosophy. But he soon dropped out of school, much to their dismay, then wandered the country for several years, supporting himself with odd jobs and exploring various spiritual philosophies. He’d gone from ashrams in California to cattle ranches in Montana. For several years, he’d been a stranger to their home, barely communicating. But when Carolyn had experienced her own medical emergency eight years ago, Mark had finally returned and worked out some peace with his family. Now he was a grown man, finishing his graduate work in child psychology and soon to be married to a lovely young woman.

  “Carolyn . . . Rachel . . . How are you both holding up?” Emily Warwick and her husband, Dan Forbes, swept into the waiting area and hugged Carolyn and Rachel fiercely.

  A long-standing member of the church, Emily was also Cape Light’s mayor. She was a good friend of Ben’s and had often turned to him for counsel during troubled moments in her life. It was no surprise that she would come to comfort and support his family now.

  Rachel quickly updated the couple on her father’s condition. “He’s been in surgery a little over an hour. The last time the nurse came out, she said they were just getting started.”

  Emily took Carolyn’s hand. “It’s a long, hard wait. But we know he’ll pull through. Ben is strong . . . and stubborn.”

  Carolyn had to smile at the reminder. “In his quiet, intractable way. That’s for sure.”

  “You must be hungry,” Dan said. “We brought some food. The food in the cafeteria is . . . well, it’s hospital food.”

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t cook anything,” Emily assured them with a grin. A notoriously bad cook, Emily did try. But it had become a joke around church: Whenever it was time for a potluck supper, Emily was assigned the bread and butter, or even the paper goods.

  “Sophie Potter made you a care package. There’s some hot soup, cheese, homemade bread, and apple crisp. And all the dishes and utensils, I see,” Dan added, peering into the second bag.

  “There’s a little table by the window. Let’s set up over there,” Rachel suggested. “I could do with something to eat. I hardly had breakfast.”

  Even in the prese
nce of Sophie’s delectable food, Carolyn couldn’t summon an appetite. She was too frightened and worried to be hungry. But she went to the table anyway and sat down while Emily and Dan set out the meal. She knew she ought to eat something, if only to keep up her strength. “This was so thoughtful of Sophie,” she said.

  “You know Sophie. She couldn’t come up here, but she wanted to do something,” Dan said.

  “When we stopped at her house to pick this up, we found half the church there. She invited a group to go over and pray for Ben. They’re praying right now, Carolyn,” Emily assured her.

  “And so is the rest of the congregation who couldn’t make it to Potter’s Orchard,” Dan added. “Ben is blessed with an abundance of friends.”

  “You both are,” Emily said.

  Their words touched Carolyn’s heart. She felt her eyes tearing and dabbed them with a napkin. She and Ben were greatly blessed in their lives in so many ways, especially in their relationships. With their children and grandchildren. With friends and family, near and far. With all the members of his congregation.

  If it was God’s will that her husband not survive, at least she knew he had lived a good life, a rich life. As Henry David Thoreau once said, “I’ve traveled widely in Concord.” Her husband had traveled widely in the small country village of Cape Light. It was an entire world, and living in it, Ben had been truly blessed in so many ways. What more could one ask for?

  She was the one who was asking for more now. Begging God for more time with her husband, the final years together they had worked so hard for, been waiting for, deserved after all they’d been through together. What would she ever do without him if—

  She couldn’t even think about that. She forced herself not to think at all and just closed her eyes and prayed.

  SEVERAL HOURS LATER, THE NURSE LIAISON TO SURGERY CAME INTO THE waiting room. “Mrs. Lewis?” she called, looking around.

  Carolyn jumped up from her chair. “Right here!” Magazines slipped from her lap, but she stepped right over them to quickly meet the nurse.

  “Your husband’s surgery is almost finished. They’re just closing him up. He’s done very well,” the nurse reported. “He should be wheeled out soon, and you can visit with him briefly in the intensive care unit.”

  Carolyn was speechless for a moment. She nearly felt her legs give way under her. Luckily, Rachel was holding her hand.

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you so much,” she said emphatically. The nurse touched her arm, then left to visit another family.

  Carolyn took a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “Thank you, God,” she said out loud. “Thank you for taking care of Ben.”

  “Oh, Mom . . .” Rachel hugged her mother, hiding her face in Carolyn’s shoulder.

  “Yes, I know, dear,” Carolyn replied. There were no words to express their relief, their complete and utter joy and gratitude.

  BEN SENSED SOMEONE STANDING BY HIS BED. HE HEARD CAROLYN’S voice calling him. “Ben, are you awake? Can you open your eyes?” she whispered.

  He tried, but he was tired. So very tired.

  But he had to get up and get over to the church, get to work this morning. There wasn’t much time left before Christmas, and there was so much to do. He had a meeting with the choir director to plan the special services. He had made notes in one of the hymnals. But where had he put it?

  The snow angels would help him find it. All day, they’d come to help him. He’d seen them through the falling snow . . .

  “Carolyn . . .” he said groggily.

  “Yes, dear?” Her face was close to his; he could feel her breath on his cheek. “What is it, darling? What are you trying to say?”

  “Have you seen my hymnal? The black one with the ripped cover? The snow angels must have moved it somewhere . . .”

  “The snow angels took your hymnal, dear?”

  “Just borrowed it,” he mumbled. “They had some questions . . .”

  As he finally managed to form the thought and open his eyes, he heard soft laughter. He looked up at her, and then at Rachel, who stood on the other side of the bed. And then at his son, Mark, who peered down over his mother’s shoulder.

  “What . . . what are you all doing here?”

  “Ben, you’re in the hospital. You had a heart attack. You needed an operation,” Carolyn explained slowly. She was sitting on the edge of the bed now, her hand covering his. “Do you remember any of that?”

  He met her concerned look and nodded. But in truth, he didn’t quite remember. He felt groggy. His mind felt so fuzzy, as though his head were full of cotton.

  Or snow.

  He did remember the snow this morning, staring at it from his bedroom window, pausing to admire the pristine beauty of the scene.

  Then shoveling it. And the pain in his chest. The shortness of breath . . .

  “I collapsed . . . at the service,” he told her. It was a struggle just to say those few words. His chest still hurt, but now he realized that was because of the surgery. His legs, too, hurt something awful.

  “That’s right. You’d just finished the Scripture reading.”

  “What Scripture was it, Dad? Can you remember that?” Mark challenged him.

  Always pushing the envelope; that was his son, all right.

  “Mark 13, verses 35–37,” he murmured.

  Appropriate, he thought. The verse reminds us that we never know when the owner of the house will return, so we’d better not goof off. Well, the owner of this particular house—his body and soul—had not come this time to find him. But He’d given him a good warning.

  “Very good, Dad. I’m impressed,” Mark said.

  “Especially since the doctor said you might have some side effects from the anesthesia. Some disorientation,” Rachel explained.

  Ben tried his best to answer. “I had a dream. I was home. In my bed.”

  “If only you were, dear,” Carolyn sympathized.

  The post-surgery intensive care unit was an open area that did not offer any privacy. A nurse stopped by to check the many monitors and tubes that were connected to Ben’s body.

  “You’ll have to go now,” she told his family. “He really needs his rest. One person can visit again in about an hour, for a few more minutes.”

  Carolyn sighed and gazed down into his eyes. “We have to go, sweetheart. I’ll be back soon. I bet you just want to sleep.”

  He nodded and tried to smile at her. His mouth felt funny. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he’d had one of those thick plastic breathing tubes down his throat during the surgery.

  Everyone kissed him good-bye on the forehead, even Mark. Ben watched them go and closed his eyes. Despite the fog in his head and the fact that he felt as if he’d just been hit by a truck, he wasn’t sure he could fall back to sleep that easily. So many sounds, so much activity all around him. The odd feeling of his body being connected to machines. He felt like a science experiment pinned on a display board.

  He guessed that the stuff dripping down through the tubes into his veins was medication, some to block the pain from the incision in his chest and those in his legs where veins were removed. But he still hurt all over, his legs even more than his chest. But I’m grateful for the pain, he realized. So grateful to feel anything, just to be alive. Thank you, God, for sparing my life. Thank you for allowing me to see my wife and children again.

  Ben felt his eyes fill with tears, realizing how close he had come to dying.

  Perhaps as a man of faith I should be stronger and wiser, immune to the fear of death, he thought. Wasn’t a fear of death doubting God’s promise of everlasting life? Wasn’t it a lack of trust?

  But he was only human, just like any other man. Frail and imperfect, clinging desperately to this beautiful old world. His life, as fragile and temporal as a flake of snow, drifting down from heaven.

  He had started the day awed by God’s handiwork, Ben realized, and now ended it, overwhelmed by his maker’s mercy.

  Thank you, Lord. Thank you. Tha
nk you . . .

  The words sailed through his mind on a long white ribbon, floating against a blue sky. He closed his eyes and drifted into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE FAMILY HAD MOVED SO MANY TIMES IN THE LAST TWO years, Regina had all the necessary papers for school registration in one large envelope, ready to go whenever needed. When Monday morning rolled around, she needed them.

  She kept the envelope in a plastic carton of important documents and always knew where that was at any time. Their messy, spread-out lives had been condensed and condensed again, as though boiling down a big pot of stew. Now the box contained not only birth records, vaccination charts, Richard’s college diploma, and their marriage license, but favorite recipes, photographs, and the children’s special, scribbled drawings—valentines and Mother’s Day cards—made for her by hand.

  Funny what you finally decide to keep and what to throw away, she thought as she pulled out the school envelope.

  Madeline wasn’t eager to start over in a new school. “Can’t I start tomorrow? I can help you and Dad today, unpacking and stuff.” Her daughter gave her a hopeful look.

  “There’s not much to unpack right now, honey. Most of our things are back in Pennsylvania. You know that.”

  Madeline sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the bare floor. Regina could tell she was trying not to make a fuss, but she dreaded facing a school full of strangers. Regina’s heart went out to her. It was hard to be the new girl over and over. Middle school was a fierce place, especially when you didn’t have the right jeans or latest designer boots. Kids could be cruel.

  Regina sat on the bed and stroked her daughter’s hair. Maddy was so pretty and good-hearted. She always made friends easily.

  “You’ll be okay. I’ll bet you have at least three friends by lunchtime, and you’re invited to a sleepover by next weekend.”

  The last part of the bet made Madeline smile. “I don’t know, Mom. I don’t know what kids are like around here.”

  “Kids are pretty much the same all over. That’s what I think. But there’s only one way to find out. Come down and have breakfast. We’ll leave in about an hour.”